When I was a young girl, I would often spend time with my father looking up into the stars at night, pondering the grandness of God. We would lie on our backs in silence, reveling in our awe of the sky—a window granted into an infinite universe. In moments like these, I felt especially close to my father, possibly because we felt so close to God together. The memory of those nights has stayed with me and continues to teach me valuable lessons about the power of humility to reveal a glimpse of infinite Life.

An understanding of Life as God suddenly became imperative when my father passed on unexpectedly, presenting me with the greatest challenge I’d ever faced. After months spent oscillating between prayer and much struggle, I ultimately found that praying about loss and grief is really about uncovering another story: one that reveals that right where pain and loss seem to be, there is an open door to joy and transformation.

An immense spiritual effort is required to navigate the human story of death. I found this most wonderfully expressed in a statement by Mary Baker Eddy that has guided me unfailingly: “The heavenly intent of earth’s shadows is to chasten the affections, to rebuke human consciousness and turn it gladly from a material, false sense of life and happiness, to spiritual joy and true estimate of being” (Retrospection and Introspection, p. 21).